If Looks Could Kill
by O2
Summary: She had left. Just left. So she comes back 5 years later. Big deal, right? Right. So, why does what became so clear, isn't anymore? Two men of the same heritage, from two different times. An unstable princess. A homewrecking brat... The pain is endless.
1. Black Cold

The beauty scowled deeply as she zipped up one black, high-heeled boot. The four-inch high shoes made her two legs look longer in the tight, sleek black jumpsuit that held to her like a second skin. Around her hips, was a black rhinestone belt. Her waist curved in, her chest ample. Her arms were thin, but held muscle, as did the rest of her body. 

She placed her now booted foot on the ground, with its counter part, from the bench she had been resting it on. She licked her elliptical, heart shaped lips, which where painted a shiny black. Her red tongue seemed unnatural against the color. Needlessly, she blew air from her lungs. Her lips forming a slight pout. Her eyes were narrow, naturally, and slanted. The piercing ice blue color was known to instill fear. Thin, delicate eyebrows raised themselves slightly. Black, gloved hands brought a pair of black sunglasses toward her face. One hand delicately pushed back blonde and brown streaked silky hair. She slid the glasses over her eyes, her locks bouncing back into their place at her neck. 

A smirk, one she had adapted from long ago, crossed her unholy pout. 

"Hmm, time for work."

The hardened voice was still sweet, the sexy tone piercing. 

She turned to her side, taking fast, hip like strides. A door opened, her figure a shadow in the light. 

               ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

A/N: Here's the prelude!!! YEAH! *new years eve party starts in back* Expect this to be updated, soon, but I still want TEN reviews. Also, click on my pen name and head to my profile. Don't forget to review the rest of my stories. OOOOO, can you guess who it is?

^_-V

- O2


	2. I Ran

*throws Starbucks coffee cup behind her back*

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ! Never have, never will.  

Voice: Yeah, so leave 'er alone pal. 

*pales*

*blinks several times *

Dang coffee.  

*turns around *

Duo: *smiles*

O2: *rubs eyes* Stupid coffee.

Duo: *brings empty coffee cup to her face* You need to stop drinking these.

O2: *shrugs* What can I say. I'm a coffee addict. 

Duo: *tiskes*

O2: Waaaaaaiit, how'd you..."

Duo: *smiles deviously* I know all babe.

O2: *blinks some more* Blasted coffee. 

Duo: Sorry babe, not the coffee. Though maybe we should take you to rehab. After all, I really wouldn't want what happened to Heero come your wa…"

O2: **HOLD IT! ONE**, I'm NOT going to some caffeine addiction therapy group. Second of all, how can you compare me with Heero. That dude's a psychopath…"

Duo: *gives her knowing look*

O2: WHAT!

Duo: *gives another knowing look*

O2: *looks stupefied* But that…

Duo: *continues with look*

O2: *snaps out of it* Hold it yet again. Just what are you doing here. 

Duo: Well, ya see. The guys and I decided our skills were getting dulled with our current jobs…

O2: Which are…

Duo: *gives mild Heero Death Glare®* Anyway…

O2: *rolls eyes*

Duo: *clears throat* As I was saying, so we picked out some, um…

O2: *hisses* Victims…

Duo: Yes… er, no…

O2: HAHA! Guess that Burger King wasn't working for ya huh, G-boy.

Duo: NO! That's not it… Say, how did you know that.

O2: *smiles evilly* I have my ways… *hisses* babe.

Duo: *growls* OKAY! OKAY! I got sick of 'May I take your order', and 'Would you like fries with that'. I swear if I had to deal with one more old lady paying in 5 bucks worth a pennies I was gonna killlllll someone/thing.

O2: *stares at twitching Duo*

Duo: *still twitching*

O2: Okay… But that still doesn't explain why you're here… with me might I add.

Duo: *gains composure* Eh, I needed someone to stalk.

O2: *o.O* Why **ME**!

Duo: *smiles playfully* You're pretty cute shorty.

O2: *face faults*

        ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It's always been automatic for me. Sticking one foot in front of the other and moving, that is. I've always seemed to stare straight ahead as well, back straight, even stare; so everything should have been clear, right? 

I was always supposed to know where I was going, what I was doing, and what was up next. 

But I didn't.

That was the thing.

So now as I was headed for a new assignment, or more precisely to be yelled at for my last; I contemplated where this turn in my life had taken place. Maybe it was after the arranged marriage my parents had made. I'd taken that rather well when I thought about it. Being stunned for two days and then just excepting it like the mustard on my sandwich I didn't want but would eat anyway. Bad analogy, I liked mustard, on _any_ sandwich.

No, it couldn't have been after that, or the fact that it turned out to be one of my best friends I'd be 'balled and chained' to. Poor guy, actually. He was forced into it physically. And then there was the fact he was threatened with loosing everything he'd ever worked for if he didn't, which I later on found out about. 

I don't think it was the fact that I saw him with another woman by his side about three hours before the wedding. 

Another shocker.

I accepted that as well, despite the fact I felt a little 'betrayed' if you would.

I at least expected him to be faithful for the two years we'd be married, live in the same house, different rooms of course, and then divorce. It had all been planned out between the two of us. 

I hadn't expected him to love me, or even care for me for that matter. 

But I did expect his trust, and I expect him not to throw mine out either.

No, it was all those things. I'd scene too much in my short life, I'd been controlled too much in my short life, that I guess I lost my logical sense. I was nearly eighteen when I was nearly married off, that's too young. 

I still think I had finally snapped.

I packed up and left.

I left both of our parents at the wedding.

I left my parents' family and friends at the wedding.

I left his parents' family and friends at the wedding.

I left him at the alter. I left him waiting for what I later found out from a newspaper, I'd made the front page, that everyone waited for nearly two hours before it was decided I'd split. 

I was long gone by then. 

But everyone else thinks luck handed me to them in a hand basket. 

Two days of roaming in a haze, I'd missed forty-eight hours of my life. From what I heard was that after a random stranger nearly died and I randomly walked upon the scene; and randomly mutilated the globe's most wanted murderer therefore randomly saving the stranger's life, here I am. Of course you have to add a random four years later to that equation but you still get now.

Yes, I joined the government. Well an organization of the government if you would. 

Yeah, Marron Chestnut, secret agent.

Never thought it would happen.

Tuning in to my surroundings I heard purposely heavy footsteps behind me.

Mitchel.

_Stupid partner._

I still didn't understand why I had one.

Letting an inaudible growl escape I sped up a little. 

"Come on McCaw, ease up," his voice was deep, thick as wax, and with the tone of fire.

He was determined, I'd give him that.

"What do you want?" 

I couldn't help but hiss coldly, he had irritated me. 

He got my point; he was sharp enough for that. 

He gave off a nervous intake of breath. 

I couldn't help but growl.

"Mitchel, I said leave me alone about it." 

I turned around after stopping from the paced walk. 

His six and a half foot frame stood tall over my own five foot five. Amused olive green eyes that didn't exactly pierce in intensity stared at me with just a hint of amusement. 

He always found my irritation funny.  

I glared at the broad shoulders that held the baggy shirt, moderate muscle sculptured underneath. Bleach-blonde hair, which believe it or not was natural, looked tangled and unruly as it hung shoulder length. His olive skin seemed to glow with constant sweat, though I'd never tell him that. I nearly kicked his pants to see if he had legs under there. Perhaps the only thing that had ever actually bothered me with his appearance, was the constant black like stubble that was the beginnings of a full beard.

"Hey, you okay?"

He was sincere.

_Too bad._

"You need to start dressing your age."

He raised a blonde eyebrow at me.

"Something bothering you?"

_Stupid partner._

A sly smirk crossed his thin lips.

"Come on, I'm your partner."

I wanted to smack him. But knowing my strength, I'd twist his neck all the way around.

"You wouldn't understand."

It unfortunately came out in a whisper and a little too cold for my liking.

To avoid more conversation, I started an even faster pace towards my destination.

He walked faster. When he was about to say something; the hustle and noise of ringing phones, clicking keys, screaming people, and many other things assaulted our ears. 

I walked in, the high-powered lamps above blinding me temporarily. 

The room was filled to the brim with desks, computers, TV screens, and other sorts of equipment. The metal in the room was bitter cold, but the lights and the heat created by bodies filled the room with an unpleasant stuffiness. 

"MCCAW!"

I glared at the middle aged, heavyset man that walked my way. A wool suit of a gray scheme covered his medium height frame. His cocoa skin was oily from sweat and his chin and sides were growing whiskers.

He'd been here for a couple of days.

"JUST WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN!"

I cringed inwardly, he didn't have to yell. 

I came to a complete stop and gently placed my hands in a crossed position in the front of me. 

I couldn't help but glare back. 

He stopped about a foot in front of me, raised an eyebrow, and then growled.

"Something you wanted to discuss?" 

He froze at the ice in my tone, but stared daggers in return.

"What's with these reports!"

Raised to his eye level were several vanilla folders. His hand almost had them gripped in a fist, wrinkles spreading up.

I just stared. 

"THESE ARE PURPOSTURIOUS!"

He threw them at me, expecting them to just fly everywhere. And once again he'd forgotten, I was quicker.

I reached up to grip them with one hand, giving a warning glare in response.  

"Care to tell me why?"

The older man paused, slight fear flashing in his features. He licked his lips, regaining his composure… somewhat. 

"It's nice that you got have the crew out alive, but it doesn't register that one burly man was able to destroy the whole base with…"

He trailed off, apparently trying to remember how I had written the description that he'd read. I truly doubted he could picture it.

"I'm aware it makes no sense," I shook my head the slightest. "But he did shoot energy from his hands."

He swallowed, I could feel the heat from him increase. 

Dropping his angered mood, he turned around, starting to walk away.

I nearly rolled my eyes but followed.

"Listen McCaw, I've been here 48 hours straight, Tig won't get off ma back bout it and these reports are outta wack."

He stopped, and I stopped too.

He swung around.

"Though this makes no logical sense, I can't just shrug id off."

Despite his disbelief, it came from me. I had enough respect that when if came to man, anything I said couldn't, wouldn't, be ignored. 

"Thanks Higs," I gave a smirk, though it was probably cold. I'd given up trying to look warm. 

I turned around, walking away. 

I felt the scowl more than saw it.

Mitchel once again was being difficult.

"I hate that man," he hissed.

I turned a full turn to face him.

A thing with Mitchel's behavior was that he always required attention in one way or another.

"I thought it was Tig."

He averted his gaze from the once retreating figure to my eyes, searching again for a sign or something. He always did that.

"That was last week."

He seemed to growl it out.

I only stared.

I knew he wanted me to take it further, and once again I gave in. Who ever said I wasn't a push over?

"Shawle deny a raise?"

His scowl deepened, his eyes glaring at the floor.

Now he was just acting like a stubborn child. 

He brought his gaze back up to me, searching my eyes again.

"Get over it Mitchel," I hissed. 

He swallowed hard.

Angry now, I walked past him, heading out.

Several desks went by before I heard my alias name called.

"AMY!"

Stopping in my tracks I turned around.

"What Jack?" I asked coldly, walking toward him at a moderate pace.

The thin man, in his early twenties, paled at my facial expression. The pupils in his ice blue eyes became the size of pins behind his thin-rimmed glasses. His ruffled black hair was matted down with sweat, and his tie from his suit had been undone.

I couldn't help but wince, I always tried to look anywhere but at those eyes.

"I, uh, well, um…"

His voice held that of youth.

"Yes," I encouraged in a cold tone, though nothing new.  

His stuttering was starting to agitate me.

"I, I got those security discs you asked for."

He was smiling sheepishly.

"Thanks," was my dulled voice.

He turned around to his desk, crouching down and digging through a drawer. 

With my patience running thin from my anger, studied the contents of his desk.It was then I spotted an unfortunately familiar face on the cover of a magazine that was on top of the numerous mountains of papers on the surface of his desk.

I clenched my jaw to prevent it from going slack.

From somewhere in my vision, I saw Jack stand up with two reflective discs in his hand, grinning madly. 

It dropped though, when he noticed my attention occupied by something else. He followed my gaze to his side and saw his magazine. 

"Oh, yeah, bought this from the stands this morning. That Briefs is pretty popular."

I gave it my full attention, purposely not looking up. 

"Uh, you can have it if you want."

Having heard these words, and using movements faster than that of normal, I grabbed the piece of literature from his desk, and was now several feet from his place. Walking toward the exit of the POC.

"HEY AMES, you forgot your…"

I never heard the rest, I wanted my sanctuary. And I wanted it now. 

                   ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

O2: Okay, tell me what ya think. That means R&R.

*falls on her butt as ground starts shaking*

O2: Whyyyyyyyyy iiiiiissssss ttttthhheeeeeeerrrrreeeeeeee annnnnnnnnn eeeeearrrtttthqqquaaake? Iyiyiyiyi dddiidnnn't orrrrrrrdddddder oooonnne.

*Duo's gundam appears*  
  


O2: *blinks*

*mobile hatch opens reveling the braided pilot *

Duo: Yeah, and if you don't, The God Of Death® iz gonna getcha.

O2: *blinks*

Gundam: *has scythe aimed at readers *

O2: DUO!

Duo: *turns attention to authoress* Ya call me babe?

O2: *twitches* Ya know, ya **really** irritating me.

Duo: What'd ya say babe?

O2: *sweatdrops* Never mind.

Duo: *blinks innocently*

O2: It just had to be a former assassin. Nope, couldn'ta had a plumber. Just had ta have…


	3. Mountains Tall

A/N: *looks around* Hey, he isn't here. *smiles*

                           ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I entered my sanctuary, the doors making a swish as they closed behind me. For the most interesting reasons I constantly found myself feeling as if I was on the starship 'Enterprise' whenever I was in headquarters. 

The room was round and nothing but metallic metal; the crazy thing was it soothed me. I constantly felt like I did nothing but run around in a circle. Things never were better or worse, just constantly the same.  

The seats were funky egg shaped chairs with a half dome covering. They were deep, you were normally consumed inside. The outsides were silver, but their inner coverings were either silver, navy blue, or black. Three of them stood in a round circle, facing each other. 

I plopped down in the black one. 

The magazine began to wrinkle as I felt my own grip tighten for no apparent reason.  

I couldn't help but scrunch up my own eyebrows in my self-induced confusion. 

Why exactly did it bother me that the one I ran to get away from had his picture on a magazine? Several hundred actually but just this one, I mean, it was just that, paper with pictures and words on it. So, I was shaking why?

I brought my head up to stare at the ceiling, which had giant lights the lit up the room. 

_So am I really a coward?_

I ran because I couldn't handle it, was that a cowardly thing to do? Did I even _try_ to turn the tables in my favor? 

For four 'random' years I'd kept everything before Amy's beginning completely piled within Marron. As well as Marron herself. How long had it been since _she_ came back. 

So here I was, trying to stuff Marron back in the bag I'd thrown her in, in the closet of my mind. And here she was, thanks to a magazine with a simple picture. 

So, was that a good thing?

Screw the question. As a matter of fact screw the answers. I had a feeling I didn't want them. 

I leaned back more into the cushions of my seat. The muscles in my back relaxing just the slightest. 

I'd probably kill him if I ever saw him again anyways.

Rather than throwing the thing against the wall I resorted to reading the other captions that were on the cover.

His face was burned into my mind now. Like a hot iron that scared skin.

Growling, I shoved the thing to the side of me. The magazine falling unattended in between the cushion.

My thoughts of reason could come up with on three choices. I was either that mottled, or truly that was it. 

I could go on and forget about it_._

I couldn't help but growl out loud.

_Yeah right_

I could go back and face it.

_…No_

Okay so that was only two. But what else could I do? Let it get to me and become even emotionally worse than I was?

Was that healthy?

Was it the right thing to do?

My eyes moved to stare at a large part of the corner of the zine that was sticking out. 

Of course it wasn't healthy. Nothing I did was healthy. Nothing I did was the right thing. Nothing I did made sense for that matter. Confusion was all too familiar thing. 

Glaring at the thing, I hesitated before pulling it back onto my lap and opening it up to the first page. 

The Table of Contents.

It seemed so final.

Searching for a split second I saw the article on him and turned to the page as nonchantely as I could make it look.

I'd lost my ability to act right then and there. 

I stopped at the page.

Staring at it quietly, I bit my lower lip. 

_Did I really want to?_

I couldn't help but be mad at myself. I'd faced more horror in the past four years, and this was worse why? 

Huffing, I stood up with the magazine not far from my face. 

_Why should I care?_

Growling, more at myself than the frustration, I closed and threw the magazine on the chair as I stood. I felt the muscles in my legs growing stiff. 

I ran my left hand through my hair, pulling my bangs all the way to the back. Only to have them move themselves back to their former place; at the sides of my head blended in with the rest of my hair. Maybe I should change my hairstyle. I couldn't help but give a huff. I felt packed anger release a small part of itself as I headed for the exit. Placing one foot in front of the other in cautious, angry steps.  I'd had enough for tonight. 

I felt a tug at the thin ice around my heart. I did miss him, didn't I?

The exit door slid open and I couldn't help but stop in the middle of it. My head turned without my direction to look back. Feeling somewhat torn, I swallowed and turned my head in the direction I was heading. 

I needed a vacation. 

I think. 

Or would that just make me worse?

                                            ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I turned down another hall, basically just wandering. But work called again. This is what I hated about my job. It was nice pay, _very_ nice pay, but you couldn't even wander in peace.

"What is it?"  
  


Okay, so I growled at the guy whom was in the shadows about to tell me who wanted me at the moment. You'd think they'd all expect that from me now, you'd think they'd all stuff jumping in surprise when they knew I knew they were there.

Go figure.

"Shawle wants you in his office."

Was it just me, or did he sound like he was doomed? Or was the tone for me?

I couldn't stop the growl that literally escaped. 

Oh he was gonna get when I'd been trying to hold back. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I stomped into my superior's office, more than determined to give him some stifled venom. In other words, a verbal assault that bit. But then again I never did like the fact that the man always had about fifty guards in his large, metal, enclosed office. Twenty-five bordering each side, so that when you walked down they each had a full of you.

God I hated his office.

I focused my attention on the cocoa skinned man that was sitting about twenty meters ahead, leaning back a slightly over sized chair, with a large desk surrounding him. And he was glaring at me.

_The usual greeting._

Walking up to his desk, I straightened my posture even more and crossing my arms in the process. I couldn't help the solemn look that paced the features I now only recognized as stone. The stone cold that was never leaving.

God, now I'm depressed.

"It's good to know that even you can have fun. But could you find amusement on your own time" he hissed.

Now exactly what was he talking about? Okay, so I had glued Alb's pants to his bed about three days ago, but that's what he got for questioning my authority. I was seriously above the fourth rate agent as well. 

I shrugged anyway, he was still glaring. I just glared back, normal reaction. 

"You called?"

He gulped again, literally. I wondered still why I put so much fear into this guy. 

"Listen Amy," he said seriously.

My eyebrows narrowed, his tone intriguing. 

"Ah've checked with every other organization, and turns out this guy just izn't on our turf."

_Our turf?_

God, I swear I'd never get used to his phrases. Turf? I wasn't aware we had a 'turf'.

"He's a threat to global security."

_Same old, same old._

I was getting sick of this, everything was a threat to global security. There wasn't anything that wasn't a threat. 

I nodded my head, telling him I understood and trying so hard not to roll my eyes. 

I stared for a few more moments. 

Guess he isn't going to say anymore.

My legs made a quick turn with me and before I knew it I was off.

I nearly glared at them. Since when had I lost track of my body? 

"And Ames."

I stopped; I didn't like it when he did that. Maybe I should've kept going, I already knew what he was going to say. 

'Take Mitchel.

"Take Mitchel."

_Grand._

My body stiffened on its own accord then sent me towards the exit. 

_I didn't give you permission!_

Grand, not even I knew what I was going to do next. And if that man didn't stop smiling behind my back I'd kill him. 

But as I wanted to turn my head to send a death glare his way, my neck wouldn't hear it. 

_This is humiliating._

                                          ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

O2: Short, I know. But I wonna know what ya think.

Voice: Women! HUMPH!

O2: *blinks* Okay, I haven't had any coffee in days. So why am I still hallucinating. 

Wufei: *appears out of nowhere* That good for nothing second pilot couldn't handle a simple minded woman and left me to the task. 

O2: *mouth agape*

Wufei: *shakes head* Hormonal b…


	4. Dawning To Come

O2: Well, that little nuisance is taken care of.

*dusts off hands*

Voice: Excuse me.

O2: O.O

Voice: Excuse me Miss.

O2: Not again. *slaps head*

Person whose voice belongs to: Good Evening Miss O2. My name is Quatre R…

O2: Why can't you assassins just leave me alone!

Quatre: I'm sorry Miss but I don't underst…

O2: *irate* Of course you don't!

Quatre: *sweatdrop* Well…

O2: After the passing of two of you, don't you guys ever get a hint?!

Quatre: Well, Duo did run away, Hero's still looking for him. And Wufei is in the hospital in stable condition mind you…

O2: Ya know, you sound gay.

Quatre: *blinks* Excuse me?

O2: You heard me.

Quatre: *stares*

O2: Helllllloooo. *waves hand in front of his face*

Quatre: *breaks down into tears* WHY DOES EVERYONE THINK THAT?!

O2: *blinks*

Quatre: No matter how hard I try. *pulls tissue box from nowhere*

O2: Okay. *blinks*

Quatre: I mean, I drive a friggin giant robot. *blows nose* I thought I'd be layed at least 5 by now. *sniffle* But NO. Just because I did drag ONCE! I'm labeled for life. Confound it! That was on Halloween. 

O2: I so did NOT wonna know that. 

Quatre: Well, if it's manly that you want, then by all fluffy rabbits it's man you'll get. *tears shirt open*

O2: Note to all. Never send them to me in an unstable condition.

                                     ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^**^*^*^**^*^*^*

"You want me to do WHAT?!"

The female voice bellowed in a desolate tone.

"Yes" said he, the designer of fashion, that'd been hired for this mission. 

He was, of course, utterly ignoring her.

"Classic will most definitely do. I suggest we dye your hair a wine red. Then a dark maroon for the lips, and crushed velvet, no sleeve gown."

She blinked.

"You have heard that I've been considered a psychopath?" 

Though calm in tone, her words had been gritted, spit with flame. 

He, to the disbelief of those present, continued to ignore her. 

"And you."

With a kind of pleasure in his eyes, he turned to her partner, Don Mitchel.

"To match your green eyes and flawless olive complexion" the designer winked, "I  suggest Armanie."

She stared at the designer, who she now identified as Zhan, and then at Mitchel, who was sweating with a sense of dread. 

A cold smirk played on her lips, earning wide eyes from Zhan. 

"Yes," she stood in frozen air, "I see it now." 

Fear entwined itself in the eyes of her fellow agent.

"I believe a soft or perhaps chestnut brown, or maybe a grayish mocha. Then we'll clean up those shoulder length blonde locks of yours with a shave, perhaps slight spikes."

A frown came to the designer's lips.

"But I like long hair."

"A shave it is."

She looked at him, Don that is.

He was eager. 

_You owe me._

"We'll have to get rid of that stubble of yours."

Panic streaked through his eyes.

"I also think a new hair color is in order."

His eyes widened again.

"After all, this will be formal dining."

                    *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

O2: The beginnings of a new chapter, and I don't feel like finishing it. 

Quatre: Yeah Little Lady.

O2: *blinks* He's taken on the cowboy style.

Quatre: *dressed in pink cow boots and white silk shirt, vest, and pants*

O2: He also won't stop walking like a penguin.

Quatre: *frowns*

O2: *looks him up and down*

Quatre: *glares*

O2: You still look gay.

Quatre: *screams*


	5. Begining Of Change

"Get rid of him."

Shawle choked on his coffee.

"W-wwhhaatt?"

She examined her nails.

"I said get rid of him."

The boss stared with wide eyes.

"He's a distraction," she explained, "His interest in my partner is slipping up his skills. Mitchel can't function with him constantly staring at him."

Her ice eyes narrowed.

Shawle had set his cup down, and was currently staring past her, not daring a lock with her cold pools. 

"If this is as deep as I suspect, than I need Don in top condition."

"His purpose was to make you look rich."

She pursed her lips slightly. 

"His sense of _fashion_," she stressed with sarcasm, "was unethical. He wanted to die my hair and add extension. The extra weight, which I wouldn't be used to, would only hinder my performance. The dress he chose for me was also useless. No sleeves meant no jumpsuit underneath. I can't move in a dress very well."

She said no more.

He nodded. 

"And Mitchel?"

"Mitchel's social skills are all that are needed. I only do the dirty work Shawle, you know that."

Her glare turned on him, his breath catching.

"I want him gone. I'll handle the necessities for this mission on my own."

She stood from her seat.

"This has to be hidden Mccaw. This is one time you can't go sneaking in."

She didn't turn around.

"Never had to sneak."

Her form disappeared in the darkness as she walked off. A metal door shutting behind her indicating she was gone.

Shawle breathed.

"That's was scares me Mccaw. That's what scares me."

                             *^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^^*^*^*^*^

He blinked. 

"You did what?"  
  


His disbelief was evident. 

She looked up at him, ever coldly, small nail brush still in hand. 

"Did you want him still?"

The humor wasn't there, no matter how hard you tried.

He swallowed, her stare unwavering.

"Just…"

He wasn't sure how to explain.

"He was a distraction. To both of us."

She tightened the lid on the nail polish, wet nails gleaming in the dim lights of the lounge room.

"So, exactly what do we do now?"

"The formal is tonight."

His eyes went wide.

"Everything else has been taken care of."

_She didn't want to talk._

"Else?"

The hiss was evident. 

Her cold eyes growled.

"There are two errands I need you to run. They're on that paper."

She nodded nonchantedly at the neatly folder, crisp paper that lay dormant on the coffee table. 

He growled, curiosity laced in his features.

"At the dinner, you'll only need to keep up appearances."

He stared, expecting one more thing.

She blew on her neatly manicured fingers.

"For the both of us."

                                                      &$&$&$&$&$&$&

O2: I don't own DBZ. *sad* But, *perks up* I do have a crowbar. *mechanical laugh* 

Quatre: *dressed in 'pink' tuxedo*

O2: Hum?

Quatre: *lights cigarette* 

O2: *holds in laughter*

Quatre: *takes puff*

O2: *bites lip*

Quatre: *starts hacking*

O2: *rolls with laughter*

Quatre: *sputters* It's. *hack* Your. *deep breath*  Fault. *cough*

O2: *wipes tears* Not my fault you wonna copy 'The Tuxedo'.

Quatre: *still coughing*

O2: *looks at his attire* In your own little way of course.

Quatre: *glares*

O2: Oh god just R&R already. I'd like to shoot for twenty(20) reviews.


	6. Ending This

A/N: Sorry that the first few chapters were sort of puzzled together badly. I had a hard time piecing and building parts of this story. A REALLY hard time. But now the chapters are going to be more story like, instead of journal resemblance. So, I want twenty(20) reviews. It ain't that hard. I know there are those who are reading but aren't reviewing. *evil look*  
  
Disclaimer: Okay, guess what I don't own! That's right. I DO NOT OWN DRAGONBALL/DRAGONBALLZ/DRAGONBALLGRANDTOUR OR ANYTHING ASSOCIATED! *takes deep breath* So there. And, I do NOT own 'Max Steel' or anything associated with it. I just wanted to liven up the plot, the story, and just about the entire thing. So, hopefully the confusion will spread. *smirk* Yes, this IS a DBZ fic.  
  
#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#  
  
She messaged her own hands slightly.  
  
"Why are they holding a formal dinner in December."  
  
She paused briefly, her eyes unreadable.  
  
His comment had triggered something.  
  
Her lips contrasted just slightly with her impassive expression for a brief moment.  
  
Yes, something was bothering her.  
  
"Are you nervous?"  
  
The question was just that, a true question, but a hint of concern laced itself in his tone. He loosened his business/dinner suit considerably.  
  
He did hate ties.  
  
He looked around.  
  
And he hated this limo too.  
  
She stared at him, the moment displacement in her demeanor gone.  
  
He was dressed with refinement, something she had been going for. His hair had been chopped, literally, and was giving a slight spikeness. The color had been changed, permanently, to chocolate locks. His olive skin, his olive green eyes, the width of his shoulders, his shaven face, it all matched. He now looked young, alive, oblivious to the outside world.  
  
A smirk played lightly in her eyes.  
  
Was he carefree, perhaps?  
  
"Amy?"  
  
She didn't bring her stare from the floor of the vehicle, but she did tune him in.  
  
"I miss it."  
  
Her voice was a whisper.  
  
"What?"  
  
He couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, and he asked for assurance sake, for he knew she'd never repeat it.  
  
She stared at her French manicured nails, on the hands that were hers. She squeezed them into fists slightly. Her sense of touch felt the soft threads of the crisp, crinkled fabric of the long, slimming peasant design that she had gotten long ago.  
  
Her eyes cast over once again.  
  
"Ya know."  
  
Her attention, and her head, were both immediately brought up to meet him face to face.  
  
"Sometimes, I wonder what goes on through your head."  
  
She gave her glossed lips a soft lick, the seriousness throwing her off just the slightest.  
  
Because all seriousness had been directed at her.  
  
^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^  
  
The vehicle came to a rather rough jerk in front of the large skyscraper.  
  
With her own swiftness and grace she was by her partner's side and tightening his tie.  
  
He made a face.  
  
The driver opened the door, and he was quick to leave. Not liking the ride any.  
  
But not forgetting his role, his hand appeared inside the limo, and she took it without hesitation.  
  
The actress in her almost took over immediately, offering her little time to fell the slightest disappointment in herself.  
  
She was to play the bubbly fiancé of a wealthy man.  
  
But, it was just another face.  
  
^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^  
  
They walked quietly through the people that gathered in the ballroom. The elegance was mixed with modern technology. A large, crystalline chandelier hung from the tall ceiling. Holograms of dancers glided in the air above them. The cool breeze of the fans that kept the ice sculptures cold hit both of their bare faces. But it wasn't unwelcome. Businessmen laughed at the bar, their lithe dates hanging on their arms with a soft drink in their small hands.  
  
"This looks hectic."  
  
She didn't remove the happy looking smile from her face.  
  
"You're only job is to keep them busy. Leave the rest to me."  
  
He looked at her.  
  
"Still, I think this isn't going to be easy."  
  
Several eyes fell on them.  
  
A soft beat filled the room; the voices of those talking could still be heard.  
  
They were approached.  
  
Mitchel went to work.  
  
"'Ello."  
  
She almost winced.  
  
What was it with him and Australian accents?  
  
"Yes, hello."  
  
The man looked to be in about his late 30's. His hair was slightly spiked as well. Blonde roots faded into black and then gray. His skin looked of too much sun, and the creases showed his age.  
  
Mitchel ended his over-talkative conversation. The ones that destroyed any suspicions of him and were replaced with irritation.  
  
She had learned to tune him out.  
  
"And just who is this lovely lady mind her."  
  
She focused her eyes on him.  
  
"Dria Darndoar."  
  
The name rolled off her lips.  
  
"Yes."  
  
The man's eyes never left hers as he reached for her other hand, the one that wasn't in her partner's grasp. He kissed the knuckles.  
  
"And just what relation do you be."  
  
Unusual way of speaking.  
  
"I'm his fiancé."  
  
The interest in his eyes was completely removed.  
  
He stood up erect.  
  
"Well, let me introduce you to some of our other guests.  
  
^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^  
  
She heard the loud and fake laughter before they even got there. The man was walking in front of them, and her partner's palms were sweating.  
  
They approached the table. The man that seemed to be the focus of attention at the moment was the African who we stood nearest too. He looked in his 40's; the expensive business suit went well with him. Beside him, sat a young man in his 20's. Even from here I saw his build. His blue eyes sparkled just the slightest, then went back to a dull shine as his laughter died down. Chestnut brown hair, looking softly brushed fit with his slightly rounded face. On the other side of him, sat a young woman of about the same age. She wore a simple red dress, elegant but not with too much class. Her hair was cropped short, and her eyes had almost no shine to them at all. Her face let me know one thing; her heels were killing her.  
  
"Ms. Darndoar and Mr. Darknor."  
  
Darknor?  
  
So that's what he named himself.  
  
"I'd like to introduce you to Jefferson Smith, president of N'tek."  
  
He directed his hand, and Mr. Smith stood up.  
  
"Pleasure to meet you."  
  
The African took her hand, and she continued to smile.  
  
N'tek didn't register.  
  
"Next to him, is his chief of security, Max Steel."  
  
The blue-eyed, brown haired man stood up, nodding, and then sitting back down.  
  
I ignored it, not worrying about rudeness. The look of his boss showed differently though.  
  
"And next to Mr. Steel, is his second in command, simply known as, Kat."  
  
She nodded too, only saying hello in a pleasant voice.  
  
"On the other side of Mr. Smith, we have the Vice-President of N'tek. Mr. 'Berto Martinez."  
  
He was short. Taller than her, but short. The Hispanic in him was evident; his skin was smooth and browned. Glasses perched on the ridge of his nose, his eyebrows slightly heavy. His dark hair was calm, his dark eyes noticeable. He looked too young.  
  
He went on to name the others collecting around the table.  
  
She didn't care.  
  
Her eyes focused forward, beyond businessmen of the table.  
  
She saw clearly as one man, looking similar to the man that'd approached them earlier, took a quick look around him then walked through the wall.  
  
"Ms. Darndoar?"  
  
She refocused her eyesight, and her mind quickly placed the voice's direction.  
  
"Yes Mr. Steel?"  
  
He stood up, looking toward her partner.  
  
And exchange of some sort happened, and he moved from his table to her side.  
  
"May I have this dance."  
  
She blinked, surprise catching her.  
  
"Um, yes."  
  
He gently took her hand and guided her to the dance floor.  
  
A soft piano solo filled the air, having seemed to rise in volume.  
  
She tensed.  
  
He moved his arm around her waist, his other one taking her hand. He led in a soft waltz.  
  
^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^  
  
O2: YEAH! CHAPTER 6 IS DONE. And quite long might I add.  
  
Quatre: *dressed in ganster/business man outfit* Guess.  
  
O2: *dirty look* YOU GUESS!  
  
Quatre: *shruggs*  
  
O2: *growls* GOD I wish you'd stop PMSin'.  
  
Quatre: *falls to ground Anime style*  
  
O2: *smirk* Anyway, I still want twenty(20) reviews. I got 16 so far. That's just great. But on to twenty(20). 


	7. Dayo

**A/N: Wow, 18 reviews. I sound pathetic. Anyway people, it's cool you like this fic, but it'd be cool if you'd read my others too. If ya like Vegeta and Bulma fics, try my one named 'Call Me'. **

**Disclaimer: I own Mitchel, and the other unknown made up characters. I don't own DBZ and what is more, I don't own Linkin Park's 'My December'. Nuff said.**

                                         #^#^#^#^#^#^#^#^#^#^#^#^#^#^#

This is my December

This is my time of the year

This is my December

This is all so clear

This is my December

This is my snow covered home

This is my December

This is me alone

And I 

Just wish that I didn't feel like there was something I missed

And I 

Take back all the things I said to make you feel like that 

And I 

Just wish that I didn't feel like there was something I missed

And I 

Take back all things that I said to you

And I'd give it all away

Just to have somewhere to go to

Give it all away

To have someone to come home to

This is my December

Those are my snow-covered trees

This is me pretending

This is all I need

And I 

Just wish that I didn't feel like there was something I missed

And I 

Take back all the things I said to make you feel like that 

And I 

Just wish that I didn't feel like there was something I missed

And I 

Take back all things that I said to you

And I'd give it all away

Just to have somewhere to go to

Give it all away

To have someone to come home to

This is my December

This is my time of the year

This is my December

This is all so clear

Give it all away

Just to have somewhere to go to

Give it all away

To have someone to come home to

Give it all away 

Just to have somewhere to go to

Give it all away

To have someone to come home to

                                                      ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

"Miss, is something wrong?"

His voice carried through her thoughts, making her swallow the lump that had formed in her throat. 

"This was always her song."

She had barely whispered it.

He raised an eyebrow.

"Who?'

Her coldness flashed for just the briefest, then reformed into what she was proving now.

"Nothing Sir."

"You're rather polite."

He was acting nonchantely now. 

She looked at him, blinking once, then smiled. A routine she'd performed many a time.

"And you're picking."

He raised another eyebrow.

"Why would I be picking?"

She shrugged, throwing off her moment of shown intelligence.

The music faded, the slight aura of depression didn't leave her even as she was escorted back the table.  

"Do tell, Mr. Steel. What of N'tek?"

His eyes widened.

"N'tek is one of the leading sports equipment providers."

Her eyes narrowed just the slightest. 

"Maybe that's why."

He looked at her.

"Why what?"

She'd hit a nerve.

"Why I never heard of it."

He seemed rather glad to let go of her hand, considering he almost threw her over toward her partner.

Now was her chance.

"If you'll excuse gentlemen," she nodded toward Kat, "and Lady. I'll be at the refreshment table."

Walking with a non-hurried straight posture, but still dying to get out of the dress, headed toward the treats, but turned and walked through the wall. 

                                      ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^ 

O2: Another chapter, but I still don't feel it was a great cliff-hanger. *shruggs* Oh well.

Quarte: Mission Excepted.

O2: Oh GOD don't tell me you're desperate enough to become a fellow pilot.

Quarte: *violates copyright laws by giving Heero Yuyâ Death Glare*

O2: HA! Take that lawyers.

Quatre: *continues glare*

O2: Uh, whatda ya mean 'Mission Excepted'?

Quatre: *snaps out of character* Why, to provide you with a sufficient cliff-hanger.

O2: *sweat drops* Screw that. Okay, to all the readers, I'm auctioning off an assassin muse, for free. *heehee* E's a G-boy…

Quatre: WHAT!?


	8. In The Darkness Lies

O2: Wow! No takers.

Quatre: *smiles*

O2: No one must want you then.

Quatre: *mouth drops*

O2: *smirks*

Quatre: You are truly mean Miss….

O2: *sadistic smile* THANKS!

Quatre: *blinks* I really don't get you.

O2: Hey, guess what I found out.

Quatre: *slightly intrigued* Yes?

O2: I know why you're so rich.

Quatre: *raises eyebrow* 

O2: *serious look* You're a pimp daddy for male gigolos. 

Quatre: ……………………..

O2: Uh, *scratches head* Quatre?

**Warning: Short.**

                                             ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

The inside was nothing but concrete. 

The walls, the floor, and the ceiling, solid concrete.

The temperature was also opposite what it was in the ballroom.

It was chilly.

She looked ahead into the scarcely lit darkness, ice eyes narrowed.

Growling with caution, she tucked her fingers in the front cut of the dress. The sound of ripping material echoed lightly as her evening gown was torn in half and fell to the cold ground. 

She stepped out from the shredded pile, covered shoulder to foot in dark blue. Her jumpsuit was made to cling to her, the heeled knee high boots offering grip to the floor and a harder impact when kicked. 

She bent down.

Her long fingers gripped the torn gown.

Her eyes wondered to the hologram device on the floor.

Her ears perked as she heard a sound.

Growling, she stood up swiftly, the destroyed attire incinerating into mere flakes of ashes in her hands. 

She walked steadily into the dark, her footsteps never heard.

                      ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

In a fast pace she turned the sharp, narrow corner. Seeing the man that was the cause of the noise.

"'Berto…"

One hand came up quickly to his mouth, the other tightening around his neck.

He stiffened,

"Quiet you arrogant fool."

Her hiss sounded in his ears.

                              ~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~

O2: So what do you think?

::silence::

O2: YES! I've scared off another one. 

*chalkboard appears out of nowhere. author takes a piece of chalk and makes a third slash under a picture of a stick figure*

O2: *satisfied smile*

Voice: Yo…

O2: *face faults* GOD, can't you go away?!!!!!

*Trowa comes out of nowhere*

O2: *smirks*

Trowa: *stares*

O2: Hi no name.

Trowa: *stares*


	9. Illusions

O2: You know, the best praise an author can get is when their readers start chewing them out about the length of chapters.  
  
Trowa: *stares*  
  
O2: *laughs* But I love it.  
  
Trowa: *stares*  
  
O2: Okay people, I know the chaps are short. True, I could have probably combined both chapters 7 and 8, but that just didn't seem right. *blinks* Wow, eight chapters. *shakes head* Now a small bit for aqua-illusion. She made a good point, when IS all of the stuff I talk about in the summary going to happen? It will, in time, long to you but short to me. I'm going to TRY and make rather long chapters from now on, get to the point of the story. I might rename it too. Who knows. Anyway, this chapter is longer, as long as I can get it right now, excluding this long author's note.  
  
Trowa: You've had longer.  
  
O2: *blinks*  
  
Trowa: *stares*  
  
O2: It talks.  
  
Trowa: *stares*  
  
O2: *grabs stick*  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
His form tensed even more, her grip around him tightening. The shadows gave her an unholy look.  
  
Like a white demon.  
  
Her eyes wandered her surroundings.  
  
A disgust burned in her ice pools.  
  
A sound was heard, her alertness heightening.  
  
He muffled something, her hand making it impossible to understand. But she didn't miss his foot coming up behind hers.  
  
His yelp of surprise and pain was muffled even more as she tightened her grip, making an escaping sound impossible.  
  
She growled, turning in the opposite direction she had come. Her prey being half dragged half carried with her.  
~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~  
The small dark room was made of concrete. The smell was damp and dusty, cold licked at flesh with an ice tongue. Noise from the fast moving shafts made the shadows blink like lids, the small metal blinds stood on either side of a cold metal slab that separated the room from the elevator tunnel.  
  
Her arms released him; her feet backing her body back slightly. He staggered, not used to being taken with surprise. She stood there, open but yet prepared for any physical oncomings.  
  
He stepped away more, hissing in suppressed pain.  
  
Her cold eyes stared.  
  
"Didn't hurt that much, did it?"  
  
Her voice was sultry, her tone was cold.  
  
He stared, a form of amazement in his eyes.  
  
His own blue eyes.  
  
Tense seconds passed, but he seemed to regain himself. Indicated when he straightened.  
  
"What do you think?"  
  
She raised an eyebrow at his retort.  
  
He recomposed himself, staring unwavering at her.  
  
"Who are you?" he looked her up and down, "And what are you?"  
  
"Please Mr. Steel, screw the pleasantries."  
  
His eyes widened.  
  
Her cold stare didn't waver.  
  
"I'm sure whatever you have to say isn't something I haven't heard before. Some advice, check to see if the walls around you have neither ears nor eyes before continuing your investigation."  
  
His mouth was slightly agape.  
  
Blinking once, she turned around in a graceful way and headed swiftly in the other direction.  
  
A loud screeching sound stopped her in her tracks.  
  
The elevator halted.  
  
She turned her head around, eyes wide.  
  
Creaking echoed through the shaft, alerting them both to what was about to happen.  
  
She turned her gaze at him for a moment. Then faster than him, she rammed into the solid metal that divided the machine from the passageway, breaking it. Her left arm grabbed the top cord, her right arm clasping the cord attached to the metal box. Both limps were given a churning jerk before she coiled the cords around her wrists.  
  
Her body began to move around in a clockwise fashion. The smell of burning rubber was suffocating.  
  
Swift footsteps were heard as he peered over the edge.  
  
"Holy."  
  
She peered up, trying to stop herself from moving without dropping her cargo.  
  
The slightest bit of urgency came to her features.  
  
"Get them."  
  
The hiss was final.  
  
He looked at her, blinking a few times.  
  
"What."  
  
She visibly tightened her grip on the cords  
  
"You idiot, you think this was an accident?"  
  
His eyes only widened. Sweat Starting on his forehead.  
  
She growled, glaring at him.  
  
He stood almost frozen.  
  
A huff of frustration escaped her.  
  
Her head jerked to one side. Her hair bouncing gracefully with her.  
  
"Fine then. You take the initiative of saving the metal box and I'll stop the real problem."  
  
He blinked again.  
  
She growled, loudly.  
^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^  
  
O2: Okay, I know this is sick. Though I can make it longer, since I had originally planned on 20 pages for Word, but I've been gone so long I didn't want to keep you people waiting. Hey, but my other chapters weren't THAT short.  
  
Trowa: *stares*  
  
O2: Well people, I'm still REALLY sick. We're talking bronchitis slash flu here. I can't stop hacking.  
  
Trowa: *breathes*  
  
O2: Well, that's new.  
  
Trowa: *stares*  
  
O2: Hey, if you stick around maybe he'll do it again.  
  
Trowa: *blinks* 


End file.
